


a rose by any other name

by alicialeila



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Comedy, Florist Totsuka, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Married IzuSeri, Miscommunication, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 18:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19183690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicialeila/pseuds/alicialeila
Summary: Totsuka has been pining after the handsome red-haired stranger who's always smoking outside the bar across the street. It's too bad that when they finally meet, the handsome stranger is picking up flowers for his wife.





	a rose by any other name

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something super silly and trope-y, and this is the result!
> 
> Thank you to Vanessa, for taking a look at this before I posted. 
> 
> I hope this made a few mikototsu shippers out there smile <3

**a rose by any other name**

 

 _What's in a name? That which we call a rose_  
_By any other name would smell as sweet  
-Romeo & Juliet,_ Act II Scene II

 

One of Totsuka’s favorite things about owning his own flower shop was that sometimes, he almost felt like a counselor of sorts. All kinds of different people, from all kinds of backgrounds, came to him for all kinds of reasons. Graduations, performances, funerals, birthdays -- complete strangers asked for Totsuka’s help with these important moments in their lives. And then there were the more _unique_ occasions, like the time a man wanted to know what kind of arrangement he should get to win back his girlfriend after having slept with her sister. (Totsuka had secretly thought that that particular time had been a lost cause, but he wasn’t one to turn down business.)

In short, Totsuka got to meet lots of people in his shop, and he got to hear all of their different stories. Every time someone walked through his door, he looked forward to hearing that story, and getting to be a part of it, if only for a little while. He’d only been open for a couple of months, but even in that short time, he’d found the work more satisfying than he could have imagined.

Today, one customer in particular caught Totsuka’s eye before even entering the store; he hovered just outside the shop, taking the last few puffs of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and squishing it with the toe of his shoe. The man’s red hair and striking silhouette were so familiar that Totsuka found his pulse racing at the idea that he might actually come into the shop today.

These past few months, Totsuka had often seen this man standing outside the bar across the street at night, when Totsuka was working late at the shop. Most of the time the man was alone, smoking a cigarette. Totsuka wasn’t sure if he worked there, or if he was just a regular patron, but whoever he was, there was something so utterly magnetic about him, and Totsuka couldn’t get him out of his mind. He had been so intrigued that one night, he’d crossed the street and peered into the bar -- Homra, it was called -- through the huge tinted windows. He hadn’t seen the man, though, and so he’d returned to his shop slightly disappointed, but inspired to make a few lovely red-themed arrangements, all of which had sold quite rapidly.

If he had to be sexually frustrated, at least he could be professionally satisfied.

And so when that guy did push through the door, bells jangling merrily, Totsuka grinned.

“Good afternoon,” Totsuka said warmly.

As the man approached the counter, Totsuka was struck by two things:

One, the man was unfairly handsome. He was even more attractive up close than Totsuka had imagined.

Two, the man did not look like someone who frequented flower shops.

Hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, frowning slightly, the man looked supremely uninterested in shopping for flowers. Between his standoffish expression, heavy black boots, and wild hair, something about this guy screamed, _I was a teenage delinquent!_

There was something about him, though. He was _interesting._

Totsuka was doomed.

He couldn’t help but smile a little wider. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” the guy said, in a low, raspy voice. Totsuka watched with interest as the man pulled a wrinkled paper from his jeans pocket and tossed it on the counter. From the other pocket, he pulled out a card.

Totsuka scanned the paper, a little surprised. It was a completed order form and receipt, along with the corresponding credit card listed on the receipt. Totsuka had received this order a few days ago online, for a stunningly elaborate arrangement. “Just a moment,” he said, smile tightening.

The arrangement sat on his work table at the back of the store, lush and beautiful. It wasn’t exactly his style, a little too elegant and traditional for his own eclectic tastes, but it was truly some of his best work. For the first time, Totsuka regretted being so damn good at his job.  He glanced down at the card he’d printed, containing a short message in an elegant script:

 _Happy one-year anniversary, Seri-chan_ , it read.

It figured, Totsuka thought, that someone who looked like _that_ was married. The guy certainly didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d written Totsuka such a detailed order -- complete with a vivid description of what their wedding flowers had looked like -- but that was why some people preferred to do things online, right? Maybe the man was shy.

Totsuka glanced again at the arrangement. This man must be harboring some kind of secret romantic side.

Totsuka placed the flowers in front of the handsome stranger -- the _married_ handsome stranger. “What do you think?” he asked.

The man remained expressionless as he eyed the arrangement and merely nodded. Totsuka probably should have been offended by the guy’s non-reaction to something he’d spent literally hours on, but there was still _something_ about him, so all Totsuka could do was smile helplessly at him.

“Thanks,” the man said.

“I hope she likes them,” Totsuka blurted out, hoping the man couldn’t hear the wistfulness in his voice.

The man grunted. “She probably will,” he said tonelessly. With a small nod to Totsuka, the man was out the door.

Totsuka watched him cross the street, totally unhurried, and then disappear into the bar.

Pouting privately, Totsuka tucked the order form into the drawer underneath his cash register. He glanced at the name on the paper before shutting the drawer. “Kusanagi,” he whispered to himself.

 

**⌘**

 

Because Totsuka was not in the habit of pursuing married men, he figured that would be the end of it; he’d stop seeking out a flash of red hair across the street and he’d move on. Historically, Totsuka wasn’t one to get attached to people, certainly not his crushes.

This time proved to be different, though, and Totsuka found that he couldn’t get that handsome face out of his mind. Since he couldn’t cross the street to lurk in the bar, Totsuka dealt with it the only way he knew how: his imagination. So he _might_ have concocted a few elaborate fantasies wherein Kusanagi burst into the shop to profess his love, or wherein they’d have a secret affair. And _maybe_ that handsome face, that rough voice, those big hands, came to mind when he jerked off, but again, it was just a harmless fantasy.

The only problem was that fate turned out to be a cruel, cruel thing. After that encounter in the shop, Totsuka started running into Kusanagi _everywhere_. The convenience store around the corner, his favorite coffee shop -- nowhere was safe. Not to mention, it seemed like every time Totsuka looked outside, he was out there, smoking a cigarette.

How many breaks did one man need?! And did they have to be so freaking long?

One Monday afternoon, when his shop was closed, Totsuka was walking through the local park, camera in hand. He loved to take photographs, and the summer scenery in the park always helped him find inspiration for his arrangements. He was crouched down taking a few snapshots of a cluster of wildflowers when he saw a blur of red in the distance.

He would have recognized that red hair anywhere, but what froze Totsuka in his spot was the young girl holding hands with that familiar face.

Partially hidden by a well-placed tree, Totsuka watched them walk towards the swings in the playground at the other end of the park. The girl was young, no older than ten years old, and fair-haired; in the sunlight, it almost glinted silver. She was dressed in a deep red dress, and Totsuka couldn’t help but chuckle because he’d never seen a pair so out of place at a children’s park.

 _Was that his daughter?_ Totsuka wondered. Did he have a kid? He hadn’t looked old enough to have a child that age, but maybe she was adopted? Or his wife’s kid? After all, Totsuka knew nothing about his wife, apart from her name, _Seri-chan,_ and her favorite flowers.

Once Kusanagi and the girl were out of sight, Totsuka resumed his walk through the park, only half-focused on taking photographs as he imagined what this Seri-chan might be like.

 

**⌘**

 

He didn’t have to wait long to find out, as it turned out.

It was a quiet afternoon, mid-week, and Totsuka was doing some light dusting and sweeping in the shop to keep himself busy. He turned towards the door when it jangled slightly, signalling customers. He gripped the broom tightly and his wide grin twitched slightly when he saw who had entered. It was the young girl from the other day, dressed in her school uniform. Accompanying her today was a stunningly beautiful woman; with her long blonde hair and pretty dress, she was no doubt the type of woman to turn heads on the street.

Totsuka felt a jolt of panic, but then he remembered that the girl had no idea that he knew who she was. “Welcome,” he said brightly. “How can I help you this afternoon?”

Sticking close to the beautiful woman, the girl was looking around the shop, eyes wide with wonder, and Totsuka’s smile softened.

“It’s for a birthday,” the woman said. “Anna-chan, tell him what you’d like.”

Any thought that the girl, Anna, might be shy flew out of Totsuka’s mind when the girl looked him dead in the eye and said, seriously, “I need something red.”

Totsuka laughed. “Well, I have lots of lovely red flowers,” he said. “Come with me.” He extended his hand, and after a moment, Anna took it, and he led her to the back of the shop.

They spent the next twenty minutes painstakingly selecting the flowers for a very red bouquet. Anna may not have known much about flowers, technically, but she had a very specific vision for what she wanted. It was surprisingly fun, being led around his own shop by a child.

“How’s that?” Totsuka asked, when he felt like the arrangement was complete. He couldn’t help but grin; it was fierce and wild, the kind of thing he didn’t get to make very often but always enjoyed creating.

Anna tilted her head, concentrating hard, and then turned to look back at the woman. “Seri, what do you think?”  
  
Totsuka nearly choked in surprise, and he coughed a few times to cover it up. So this was Kusanagi’s wife, huh? It was unfair, how attractive a couple they made.

“I think it’s perfect,” Seri said, snapping Totsuka’s attention back to the present. She was staring curiously at him now, and Totsuka worried that he’d been accidentally staring, or that she had some kind of married person radar that somehow alerted her to the fact that Totsuka had been lusting after her husband.

With a nod of confirmation from Anna, Totsuka finished wrapping up the bouquet and met them at the cash register.  Glancing at the numbers on the register, Totsuka hesitated. The arrangement they’d ended up creating was, in truth, a rather pricey one. But Totsuka felt bad charging a kid that much, especially one he’d kind of bonded with. Plus, he still felt weird about the whole Kusanagi thing. He named a price off the top of his head, something closer to what he’d charge for a small bouquet.

Anna pulled out a small red coin purse as Seri raised an eyebrow at him. Totsuka smiled, sure that Seri could probably tell that he was undercharging them.

“You know,” Seri said as Totsuka put the bills in his register, “my husband owns the bar across the street. You should come in for a drink sometime.”

Totsuka blinked, processing the fact that Kusanagi actually owned the bar. He smiled politely, hiding his fluster. “I will,” he said. “Thank you.” He was kind of curious, even if the invitation was only some kind of polite payback for helping Anna. “Here you go,” he said as he handed Anna the bouquet. She accepted it into her arms with great care.

“What’s your name?” she asked him, with those wide, arresting eyes.

“I’m Totsuka Tatara,” he said.

“Thank you, Tatara,” Anna said, and Totsuka chuckled.

How long had it been since someone had called him by his given name?  
  
“You’re very welcome,” he replied. He watched them leave the store and cross the street, watched the vibrant red of the bouquet retreat, wondering absently if Anna had been trying to match the red of Kusanagi’s hair.

 

**⌘**

 

He spent the next few days thinking over Seri’s invitation, and whether he really should visit the bar for a drink. He wanted to, even if it would probably be a bit awkward. Totsuka had always been good with awkward, anyways; he was able to smile and charm himself out of most situations. It would be worth it to see Kusanagi, Totsuka thought.

One evening, after closing the shop, Totsuka decided to cross the street and peek into the bar. He figured if it was busy enough that he could pop in without being too conspicuous, he might go in for a drink.

Pushing through the heavy doors, Totsuka glanced at his hands and noticed he still had dirt under his fingernails from when he’d potted a few plants in the afternoon. He figured he’d better run to the washroom to clean his hands before taking a seat at the bar.

He scanned the place for a bathroom sign. The bar was beautifully decorated, all deep, rich colors and dark woods. He spotted the bathroom tucked away in a little hallway and made his way over. Once in the bathroom, he scrubbed at his hands quickly, making sure to get all the dirt he’d missed before.

As he pushed the door open to leave, he heard a giggle, and automatically turned to the source of the sound. She was partially hidden by a doorway, but Totsuka could tell that it was Seri, and the man beside her was also partially hidden by a doorway, but Totsuka could tell that it _wasn’t_ Seri’s husband; the man she was kissing was golden-haired, and wearing glasses.

Totsuka’s heart thumped in his chest. Seri was kissing another man in her own husband’s bar?!

Mind racing, Totsuka followed his first instinct, which was to head frantically towards his door. He prayed to any god that would listen that Seri hadn’t seen him; first he’d developed a crush on her husband, and now he was spying on her affairs!

Mind focused elsewhere, Totsuka crashed into a warm, solid chest in the doorway of the bar. Large hands grasped his shoulders to steady him.  
  
“Sorry!” Totsuka yelped. He looked up, and sure enough, Kusanagi’s golden eyes stared down at him, his eyebrows raised. “Sorry!” Totsuka cried again, because this poor man’s wife had just been kissing another man, unbeknownst to him. Kusanagi just blinked, and Totsuka was sure he looked insane, running out of the bar like this. “Um, emergency at the shop,” he said, and broke out of Kusanagi’s hold to rush across the street. A car honked at him, and he waved frantically at the driver. “Sorry!” he cried for the third time.

Once he was in the safety of his shop, he let himself stop to catch his breath. Hunched over and panting, hands on his knees, his mind had the audacity to think that that Kusanagi really smelled nice, even with the scent of cigarettes.

 

**⌘**

 

After what he’d seen, Totsuka avoided the bar, like a coward. He replayed the scene over and over again in his head, sometimes lingering on the fact that he got to touch Kusanagi’s broad chest and hadn’t even been able to appreciate it.

But it wasn’t like there was anything he could do; he wasn’t about to tell a complete stranger that his wife was having an affair with some fancy-looking blonde guy. This wasn’t a movie, and Totsuka wasn’t the plucky heroine from a romantic comedy, and they wouldn’t magically fall madly in love. Unfortunately.

So Totsuka tried to go on as he had before seeing red hair from across the street, or hearing a deep voice in his shop, or running face-first into a warm body. It didn’t go particularly well, which was why, one afternoon, he was too distracted to notice the downpour of rain until it was too late and his outdoor display was about to get ruined.

“Shit!” he groaned, rushing out to grab the delicate arrangements and bring them inside. He really ought to have invested in some kind of canopy for his storefront, but since he hadn’t, he was stuck getting soaked.

He watched a flash of red cross the street, half in awe and half in horror. Wordlessly, Kusanagi started grabbing flowers and bringing them into the shop.

“Thanks,” Totsuka managed to say, when everything was safely inside, and it came out embarrassingly breathless.

They were both dripping onto the floor. Totsuka couldn’t help but stare at Kusanagi as drops of rain slid from his hair to his cheek, down his jaw, onto his neck, and then into the deep V of his T-shirt. His white shirt was totally see-through, and although they were both drenched, Totsuka’s mouth was so, so dry.

Totsuka, in turn, was being watched as well, and when he looked down at himself, he realized that his white button-up shirt was see-through, too.

Suddenly, he felt naked, and he was only able to chuckle to cover his discomfort. “Sorry for the trouble,” he said. “I wish I had a towel to offer you.”

Kusanagi merely shrugged. “I’ve got,” he said, tilting his head towards the bar.

“Ah, okay.” Totsuka smiled politely. “Well, thanks again.”

But Kusanagi didn’t move. He just stared at Totsuka. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked, after a beat.

“Oh, no,” Totsuka said, “I couldn’t bother you.” But as he spoke he trembled, his wet skin covered in goosebumps from the cold air conditioning in his shop.

Kusanagi raised a brow.

Totsuka bit his lip; the alternative was having to go all the way home to dry off and get a change of clothes. And he was pretty sure he’d forgotten an umbrella. “Okay,” he said eventually, and he followed Kusanagi back out into the pouring rain and across the street.

Totsuka was surprised when he wasn’t led into the bar, but an apartment through a separate entrance. His heart hammered in his chest as he realized that Kusanagi might actually be taking him home.

The apartment was large, but sparsely decorated and furnished. Having seen the decor downstairs, Totsuka had expected the same thing upstairs. Maybe, he wondered, this apartment was hardly used? “Do you live here?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Kusanagi replied.  
  
Oh.

Kusanagi disappeared down a hallway and returned with two towels. He handed one to Totsuka.

“Thanks,” Totsuka said.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” Kusanagi said. “You can change into something dry while I throw these into the dryer.”

Totsuka blinked. Was he… “Um, okay,” Totsuka said. He shut himself into the small bathroom and stared at the pile of clothes on the countertop. He stripped out of his wet clothes and towelled himself off quickly, before slipping on the T-shirt and sweatpants he’d been left. The clothes were several sizes too big, and he had to roll up the hems of the pants so that he wouldn’t trip over them.

He emerged from the bathroom, dry and warm, with his wet clothes in hand. Kusanagi had changed, too, into a black shirt and sweatpants. Totsuka handed him the wet clothes, and Kusanagi accepted them, eyes trailing down Totsuka’s body, lingering on the stretch of his neck and collarbone left exposed by the oversized T-shirt . Their fingers brushed, and Totsuka swallowed loudly. The clothes hit the floor, and Kusanagi was leaning down, and Totsuka realized he was about to be kissed.

“What about your wife?!” he blurted out. His body had been prepared to just go with it, but his mind hadn’t gotten the message, apparently.

“Huh?” Kusanagi asked, brow furrowed.

“Your wife? Who you bought anniversary flowers for?” Totsuka added. His pulse was racing; Kusanagi was still standing too close.

“I don’t have a wife,” Kusanagi said flatly.  
  
Totsuka blinked stupidly. “What?”

“Those weren’t my flowers. I was picking them up for Kusanagi.”

Totsuka felt light-headed. “For… You aren’t Kusanagi?”

“No? I’m Suoh Mikoto.”

“Then who’s Kusanagi?” Totsuka asked.

“He owns the bar,” Mikoto said. “Blonde guy, glasses. Always wears a scarf.”

“Oh.” That… probably made a lot of sense, and answered a few questions. Totsuka gave a mental apology to Seri for assuming that she was an adulterer. “I… Why didn’t you tell me that when you picked up the flowers?” Totsuka asked. But customers didn’t normally introduce themselves, anyways, and it wasn’t like Totsuka had told him his own name.

Mikoto shrugged. “I was kind of surprised you didn’t ask me for ID.”

Totsuka sputtered. “You distracted me,” he replied without thinking, and then realized what he was giving away. “I mean…” He looked up at Mikoto, who was looking down at him, smirking faintly. “So you’re Suoh Mikoto,” Totsuka said. “And you don’t have a wife? Or any other significant other?”

“No, I--”  
  
Totsuka pounced. Standing on the tips of his toes, he cupped Mikoto’s cheeks and pressed their lips together. He pulled away after a moment. “I’m Totsuka,” he whispered.

“I know,” Mikoto said, and then frowned.

Totsuka chuckled. “Did Anna tell you? Or Seri?”  
  
“No, I…” Mikoto avoided his gaze.

“What?”  
  
“I saw it on your website.”

Totsuka laughed, soft and pleased. If Mikoto had looked him up, then Totsuka hadn’t been the only one who had been _intrigued._

Totsuka still had a million other questions to ask Mikoto, but the rain would only last so long and then he’d have to get back to his shop. He stepped onto the tips of his toes again, and this time Mikoto leaned down to meet him halfway. Totsuka smiled into the kiss.

He kind of felt like he had to make up for lost time.

 

**⌘**

 

Bonus:  
_A few days before Mikoto’s birthday…_

 

Anna had been brushing her teeth when she’d overheard Izumo laughing loudly. She’d only heard bits of their conversation, but she’d definitely heard Izumo say:  “I bet all you want for your birthday is _something_ from the flower shop across the street!”

“Shut up,” Mikoto had replied, but Anna thought that he almost sounded embarrassed.

She considered this.

Mikoto didn’t really seem like the kind of person who would want flowers for his birthday, but he hadn’t said no.

She wondered if anyone had ever given Mikoto flowers before.

Wouldn’t it be nice to get flowers for your birthday, at least once?

Anna decided that yes, it would be.

So when Anna asked Seri to take her to the flower shop across the street the next day after school, Seri laughed and said, “I think that’s a great idea.”

And it was a great idea, as it turned out, because the man who worked at the flower shop, Tatara, had a warm smile and the best red flowers. And Mikoto seemed genuinely surprised when Anna handed him the bouquet on his birthday.

“I made it with Tatara,” Anna said, beaming up at Mikoto.

Mikoto, in turn, stared wordlessly at her as Izumo howled with laughter.

“Happy birthday, Mikoto,” she said, and she couldn’t help but feel happy that she’d gotten Mikoto flowers, because she could tell that there was something a little happy in his eyes when he looked down at them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> you can always find me on tumblr // alicialeila.tumblr.com


End file.
